


unnatural

by rayfelle



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Internal Struggle, sky flame!Mukuro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 13:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3694403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayfelle/pseuds/rayfelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why was the Sky so important, when it felt so wrong to have it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	unnatural

He was born like this, they said.

Those born with the Sky running through their veins were the lucky ones, the ones that were meant to lead and stand strong at the top of the food chain. After all, so few were born blessed and lucky, with the warmth radiating from the inside and pulling in the other elements – _one sky to bind them all_. One sky to control the elements bound to it.

Foolish.

How could a Sky lead and bind when it felt so _wrong_ to just have the warm orange flame dance on his fingertips? Whatever he was supposed to be, Mukuro clearly will never achieve it. There was nothing that he will be able to reach with his own bare hands. In this world everything was fought for and earned with the help and power of the Flame. The Flame was what sorted out the people into groups – much like a status, since why else would they all bow their heads to Sky alone? Why not the Mist or the Rain?

Why was the Sky so important, when it felt so wrong to have it? When it felt like his flesh was slowly torn in pieces every time Mukuro would ignite the spark and let his flames lick the ground before his feet. Every time the teen tried to call out to the warmth dwelling in the very core of his own being, nothing but bile and pain washed through him from the inside out. Was this really worth the titles and obedience that came with it?

With a flick of his wrist Mukuro chased away what little of the flickering fire he had managed to bring out before the taste of ash settled in his mouth. He always felt like breaking off his own fingers whenever the warm orange would start to seep out from the tips. “Foolish.” He muttered quietly, glaring at his own hands as if they held all the answers.

The more Mukuro tried to tame it, make it _truly his_ , the more it felt like nothing more but a means to an end of his own life. Self-destruction really wasn’t the kind of end he had hoped on, but the longer the flame resided inside of him, the more it felt like a death sentence by fire than anything else.

Was it really worth this pain and continue on with the road placed ahead of him? The road of power that refused to come and flesh burned from the fire Mukuro had called upon himself.

Perhaps it was time to build own his paths to take – discard the Sky that resided inside of him somewhere far away and pretend that it died. Smother it with floods and winds as strong as steel, kill it at the very root and then laugh in the face of his own freedom. A freedom for a cost of this _gift_ he possessed? Mukuro did not have to think twice which to pick. There were no double evils in this deal.

“Do it. As soon as you can.” _I don’t care about the pain_ was left unsaid. Something inside of Mukuro, perhaps the same cursed flame, whispered that the scientist already knew the words kept back. Should have guessed. They say that mistakes are the base for learning, but Mukuro never looked back on what was done wrong. Foolish child he was. “Just get it out of me.”

A blindness caused by the taste of vomit on his tongue each time the flame was ignited. A blindness that served as a guide and blocked out everything that was not connected to his aim. A quiet rage that simmered underneath the mask of calm patience that Mukuro wore for far too long. That was the power making the teen move forward, no matter how slow and long of a journey it was.

If there was no other way to fix what nature had done wrong, then who cared?

Someone once told him that a single-minded determination for a set goal wasn’t that bad. Did they think Mukuro will get this low in order to reach his wants? Surely not. There was no soul out there that ever thought that the teen’s flame was misplaced ( _how can a Sky be misplaced_ ). No soul that believed in what Mukuro had told when he’d been a child, young and foolish enough to trust in the fact that adults could solve all the wrong feelings.

As the invisible force ripped him open and pulled out the flame he _despised_ with his whole being Mukuro caught the flecks of a future now impossible and laughed. He had lost nothing. Only gained. Perhaps he’ll be left a cripple or just simply worthless without a flame, but that will be the price paid for the sins he’d done in order to be freed. The price did not matter when there was hope.

Mukuro was never one to believe in something as foolish as hope. And yet, here he was.

With his own blood dripping out of the hole left in his chest he was separated from that, which had corroded him from within. There was no more flame burning, no more of the pulsating sickness caused by the foreign warmth. An empty hole was left behind it. A space that will never be filled or mended - a wound never meant to heal again. And it was perfect like that.

Come time and he’ll think of a way to perfect himself even more. But now this was good enough.

After all, what can be more satisfying than defying the nature itself?


End file.
